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┄┄ .•* 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟖 *•. ┄┄

𝒂 𝒔𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍

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The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days and that was pissing Hermione off. She knew he was innocent but she couldn't do anything about it yet. The only thing she could do was go down to the kitchens and get him a basket of food.

That's exactly what she did, well, not before figuring out where exactly the kitchen was. And she knew just the right lads that could help her.

She found the twins in the common room and approached them.

"Gred, Forge, I need your services," she said promptly ending it with a charming smile.

They exchanged glances.

"And what services—"

"— do you need, Miss Granger?"

"I need directions to the kitchen. I know about the pear and that shit, but, I don't actually know where the kitchen is," she told them, rolling her eyes in annoyance towards the end.

"You know about the fruit portrait?"

"How?"

"That's for me to know and for you to dot dot dot," Hermione smirked channeling her inner Damon Salvatore. "Will you help or not? Cause I can just go ask someone—"

"I'll take you there," Fred said cutting her off and earning two frowns from Hermione as well as his twin.

"You will?" George and Hermione asked at the same time, then looking at each other with a grin before looking back at Fred.

"Sure. I needed to go there anyway," Fred said with a pointed look at George who got the gist and nodded. Hermione was confused.

"I could just go there alone. I just need the directions. . . ." Hermione said trailing off. She didn't need people asking questions as to why she was sending a basket full of food to Sirius Black. That could get her thrown in Azkaban or an asylum!

"I don't mind, really," said Fred waving her off and Hermione groaned inwardly.

"Fine. . . ." she sighed.

Fred poshly stood up, pretending to fix his tie (which was non-existent), and offered his arm to her. Hermione felt her lips twitch up and shook her head as she looped her arm through his, and off they were to the kitchen.

As they were walking there the thing Hermione dread would happen did happen. He started asking questions.

"Why do you need to go to the kitchens?" Fred asked.

"Ah well, I'm hungry?" She said unsurely and he nodded—yet his eyes narrowed slightly at her.

"You're different," Fred said suddenly after a while.

"You already told me that," Hermione laughed as she looked up at him.

"Your eyes are grey," Fred said as he looked into her once brown orbs, which were now a shimmering silver pool, "Did you spell them?"

"Not really," Hermione said with a shrug, slightly confused as to why Fred was being so awkward. Since when was Fred Weasley awkward? "They just changed. It started after I got un-petrified."

As they reached the kitchen Hermione did the honors and tickled the pear allowing them to go in. Since she couldn't do what she went there for, she simply made acquaintances with two house-elves. Pinky and Wilbur. Hermione loved them. They were so cute and helpful. After asking for a batch of cookies so Fred wouldn't be suspicious, and the two of them having a fun moment eating them as they talked about anything and everything, the two went back to the common room.

The next day Hermione went there again, this time, however, she was alone. Wilbur and Pinky helped her fill a bag she had brought with an undetectable extension charm on it, with loads and loads of food—which she charmed before so it would last longer. After saying goodbye and thanking the elves she set off to the owlery.

Because Hermione didn't have an owl of her own, something she would definitely take care of, she approached Hedwig.

"Hey, girl!" She greeted and the owl gave a little hoot in response, "I know this will sound mad and you'll probably say know because of Harry, but would you please give this to Sirius Black?" she asked and Hedwig hooted louder as if in protest making Hermione sigh.

"I know, I know. But you do know I'm not her anymore, right?" She asked Hedwig that weirdly gave a curt nod in response. "But you trust me," Hermione stated and Hedwig hooted again. "Then please believe me that Sirius is innocent and he's leaving off scraps and he needs this food," Hermione pleaded and Hedwig eyed her for a bit before hooting in resignation.

"Thank you so much Heggy!"

At the nickname, she got pecked in the hand.

"I mean, Hedwig."

Hermione quickly wrapped the package around Hedwig's leg, along with a note saying:

Dear Padfoot,

It's the weird girl from Hogsmeade. Here's some food—I promise it isn't poisoned. I don't know what else to say so. . . . Try not to act so guilty when you aren't.

Hermione :)

Afterward, Hermione said goodbye to Hedwig and thanked her with the help of some treats.

The next day, Hermione decided to start her Animagi project. She knew it would take a while, but she figured she could start gathering information right away. How else would she start?

She stayed later in Transfiguration in order to speak to McGonagall. That was when she realized how lucky she was to be in Hermione's body. She was such a good student and oh, so curious about getting more and more knowledge, that it wouldn't be too suspicious if she started asking questions about Animagi.

"Minnie?" She asked as she approached the front table where the stern Professor was sitting, grading papers most likely.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Minnie said looking up from her papers while setting her quill down.

"I was wondering. . . . We've already talked about Animagi in class, but we didn't really go that thorough into the Process of becoming one. I mean it should be pretty hard, and complex. After all, you need the Ministry's approval and whatnot," Hermione rambled trying to sound as convincing as possible, "My question is, how exactly do you become an Animagi? I mean, to change someone's body, it must play with your genetic and DNA and. . . . I guess, what I'm trying to say is, I would love to know more, and maybe compare that information with some muggle science books I have, and see how it would affect or make sense of it using science."

As Hermione finished the sentence, for a second there, she thought she saw a group of people in the corner of the room grinning at her, which made her frown. But like all other times as she looked back no one was there. She brushed it off as her imagination.

"What are you trying to ask, Miss Granger?" McGonagall frowned, her lips pursing even more.

"I was just wondering if you had a book on the process of Animagi," Hermione told the Professor who raised a brow, "I looked in the library but there isn't any information on the process. It does mention some aspects, but not the full thing. I guess I'm just curious. It must be so difficult. I mean, you worked under Dumbledore to be able to perform it right, it must be a pretty rigorous process."

"You're in luck Miss, Granger. I do have a book on the subject," McGonagall said as she opened a drawer and took the book out, "Now, I believe this book will answer your questions. I'm trusting you with this information, Miss Granger, as I know you're a responsible student. Therefore, do not let it fall into someone else's hands. I expect it back by the end of the week."

Hermione smiled thankfully at the teacher and nodded. She thanked her and as she was making her way to the common room she couldn't stop thinking about how easy it was, a grin growing on her face.

The next few days, when Hermione wasn't hanging out with her friends, in class or out flying, she was copying down the process of Animagi to a spare notebook she had, which she charmed with a spell similar to the Marauders map that opened and closed with a word code—Open Sesame! to open and I'll be back, to close it.

After a week she handed the book back to Minnie.

She, now, had the process of becoming an Animagus written down—along with some doodles in the corner of the pages—, and mind you, it was more complicated than one would think.

The process included having to keep a mandrake leaf in your mouth from full moon to full moon—without spitting it, or swallowing it, or taking it out when the moon isn't clear, otherwise, you'd have to start over—; collecting dew—not touched by human feet or seen the sun for seven days—; a chrysalis of a Death's-head Hawk-moth; hair—your own—; reciting a spell every day at sunrise and sundown (Amato Animo Animato Animagus)—this one Hermione was not looking forward to—; and taking the potion after reciting the spell on a lightning storm.

That was the basics of it.

And now Hermione understood the struggle. So, she decided to wait until after the holidays to bring it up to Harry and Ron who would for sure be in on it with her.

Soon enough it was the day before the match. Supposedly, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin but now that the snakes had slithered their way out of it, they were playing Hufflepuff. In all honesty, Hermione was feeling giddy. She had never watched a Quidditch match and she hoped it was as awesome as she read. She was just dreading having to walk all the way to the stands. She had also planned to let things play out. That way, Harry would have a new broom and they would win the cup anyway.

Right now, Hermione was spotted in DADA next to Ron, both of them scowling at the slimy-haired git in front of them. Suddenly in came Harry barging into the room.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin. I—"

But it wasn't Professor Lupin who looked up at him from the teacher's desk; it was Snape, and Hermione glared at the git.

"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

But Harry didn't move.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" he said.

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," said Snape with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you to sit down?"

But Harry stayed where he was. "What's wrong with him?"

Snape's black eyes glittered and Hermione was having a hard time not start laughing.

"Nothing life-threatening," Snape said, looking as though he wished it were. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty."

Harry walked slowly to his seat and sat down. Snape looked around at the class.

"As I was saying before Potter interrupted—" Hermione scowled at this. Snape was quiet until Harry came, "—Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far—"

"We've done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas, and Grindylows," said Hermione deliberately cutting him off with a glare, "and we're just about to start—"

"Be quiet," said Snape coldly and Hermione smiled sarcastically making him glare at her. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," said Dean Thomas boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class.

Snape looked more menacing than ever. "You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you—I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows. Today we shall discuss—" They watched him flick through the textbook, to the very back chapter, which he must know they hadn't covered. " werewolves," said Snape.

"Real mature, Snivellous," Hermione muttered and Ron snickered.

"Miss Granger," said Snape in a voice of deadly calm, he apparently did not understand what she said but was annoyed by her anyway, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394."

He glanced around again.

"All of you! Now!"

With many bitter sidelong looks and some sullen muttering, the class opened their books.

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" said Snape.

Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand was lazily in the air—Julie might not be Hermione, but she liked answering questions. Besides he was getting on her nerves.

"Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between—"

"We told you," said Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on—"

"Silence!" snarled Snape. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are. . . ."

"Well, Snape," said Hermione and she heard breathes hitching around her, "They differ in multiple ways. Like their snout—"

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape coolly. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

"Well, look who's talking, you insufferable git," Hermione scoffed and the class went quiet. "You asked a question. I answered. Now if you're going to be an immature, petty teenager on crack about it, that's not my fault."

"Go and see the Headmaster, Miss Granger," Snape said silkily. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."

"Then I apologize, 'cause your methods should really improve, Snivellous," Hermione scoffed and grabbed her bag storming out of the classroom, leaving a really red Snape and a really shocked class behind her.

She got out of the classroom and sighed. Then she started making her way to Dumbledore's office—which was another location her legs apparently knew the way of—all while cursing the slimy-haired arsehole. When she got there she stared at the Gargoyle statue guarding the entrance. What was the password, again? She thought to herself.

"What's up, Mr. Gargoyle?" She greeted the statue, "Would you so kindly let me in? Snape had me sent to the headmaster's office," she told the statue and it just eyed her, which made her frown.

"Fine. . . . I'll wait," she sighed.

Twenty minutes later, she spotted Dumbledore walking down the corridor—she immediately put away her Madlibs and stood up from the ground where she was seated.

"Ah, Miss Granger, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Dumbledore asked as he gave the password to the Gargoyle and they started to head up to his office.

"Professor Sni—Snape sent me. I may or may not have called him an insufferable git and questioned his questionable teaching methods," Hermione said and Dumbledore nodded along as he took a seat in his chair.

"But it wasn't me who started it, Professor. In all honesty, it was Snape."

"I see, well, I believe you have your reasons to dislike Severus," Dumbledore said, "I won't give you detention for speaking your mind Miss Granger, now is there anything you would like to talk about?"

"Actually, yes," Hermione began.

"I totally forgot to come here at the beginning of the year," she said as she sat down, "I have a statement and questions. But I believe the questions should go first."

"Ask away, Miss Granger."

"Firstly, did you figure out why I was sent here?" Hermione asked, "And why my eyes are turning grey? Or are grey, now?"

"Both your questions are connected, Miss Granger. The color of your eyes changed because you were sent here. And you were sent here because your eyes are changing," Professor Dumbledore said quizzically and Hermione only looked at him incredulously. "I do have an inkling of why this was, but I'm afraid I still need more proof, and at the moment it is lacking."

Hermione sighed and nodded.

"Fine. The statement is: Sirius Black is innocent." Hermione said and Dumbledore's eyes stopped twinkling as his face showed confusion, "The Potters decided to change Secret Keeper at the last minute. They, along with Sirius—who suggested it—thought it would be perfect. No one would suspect if Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper. They didn't know, though, that the rat was a cowardly bastard who was working for Voldemort," Hermione said and by now Dumbledore's face showed slight surprise, "Sirius Black never killed anyone. That night he went to check on the rat but found his house empty. He knew something was wrong, so, he went to the Potters and found them dead," Hermione said darkly, "The rat sold them out. Sirius went after him but the bastard slit his finger off and made the street explode. He transformed into a rat and ran away."

"A rat?" Dumbledore frowned.

"You didn't know, Sirius, James, and Bastard were Animagi?" Hermione frowned in return.

"I don't believe I did, Miss Granger."

"Well, they are. That's how Sirius escaped. Dementors can't really sense animals," Hermione explained.

"How ingenious,"

"Well, yeah." Hermione smiled.

"What is it that happened to Mr. Pettigrew?" Dumbledore asked.

"He's been living as the Weasley's rat for twelve years." Hermione said glaring at the desk, "My cat, Crooks, he's been helping Sirius. That is why he escaped. He came here not for Harry, but Pettigrew."

"How do you wish to proceed Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, sir, the rat will be out of the Weasley's by the end of the year one way or the other. I believe we should stick close to the events I know, in order to have better control of the situation," Hermione told the Headmaster, "So for now, nothing needs to be done."

"Very well, I trust your judgment," Dumbledore smiled, "I shall continue as before."

"So, you believe me?" Hermione asked baffled.

"You've given me no reason, not to," Dumbledore said with a small smile, "Now off you go Miss Granger."

Hermione grinned at the Headmaster and made her way back to the common room.

Later that day, Harry and Ron caught up with her and congratulated her on making Snape go red.

Hermione woke up later than normal the next day, which was a Saturday, by the way. She put on some black skinny jeans with leather black knee-high boots. She then threw on a Gryffindor sweater and her precious leather jacket on top and hurried down to breakfast after taking care of her hair—using her wand to put it in a low bun.

When she got to the Great Hall, the whole team plus Ron was already there. They ate hurriedly and then the team had to go. But not before Hermione cast an Impervious charm on Harry's glasses and warned him about the dementors, and that if he started to feel colder he should grab the snitch immediately.

Afterward, she and Ron headed to the stands waiting for the game to start.

The Captains walked up to each other and shook hands; Diggory smiled at Wood but Wood now looked as though he had lockjaw and merely nodded.

Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant—they were off.

Hermione watched amazed as the players soared through the sky. Little red and yellow blurs zooming in and out. The quaffle being passed and bludgers hitting people (much to her amusement). Hermione was happy that this time around, no time-out was needed as the spell she did, worked, and Harry wasn't having such a hard time.

Hermione watched as Harry got distracted by Sirius, and she scoffed at this. Why couldn't he have hidden better?

Then she watched as Harry caught sight of the snitch alongside Cedric, and they both zoomed in its direction. It all happened really fast. Hermione watched as Harry flattened out on the broom and reached for the Snitch only for the dementors to come.

However, Harry listened to Hermione's advice and bent down slightly but just enough so he could grasp the golden ball, and then he forgot about everything. And Hermione watched—and she took a picture—as Harry fell from the sky only to be caught by Dumbledore's spell who looked furious.

Now they were in the Hospital Wing. The team plus Hermione and Ron surrounded Harry's bed.

"Lucky the ground was so soft."

"I thought he was dead for sure."

"But he didn't even break his glasses."

"That's because they're a part of Harold's body."

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."

"Then you never saw the Shinning," Hermione scoffed but then she gasped as Harry started to wake up.

"O.M.G! Harold Jeremy Pottery, you're awake!"

Harry cracked a grin at his friend's dramatics—along with the rest of the team.

"Harry!" said Fred, who looked extremely white underneath, the mud. "How're you feeling?"

"What happened?" he said, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped, except Hermione she was just anxious to tell him about his broom. She knew how much it meant to him.

"You fell off," said Fred. "Must've been—what—fifty feet?"

"We thought you'd died," said Alicia, who was shaking.

"But the match," said Harry. "What happened? Are we doing a replay?"

"We won, Harold. You took my advice and caught the bloody thing before falling off and letting it go again," Hermione grinned and Harry smiled at her.

"Where is Wood?" said Harry, suddenly realizing he wasn't there.

"Still in the showers," said Fred. "We think he's trying to drown himself from happiness."

After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave him in peace.

"We'll come and see you later," Fred told him.

The team trooped out, trailing mud behind them. Madam Pomfrey shut the door behind them, looking disapproving. Ron and Hermione moved nearer to Harry's bed.

"Dumbledore was pissed," Hermione told Harry. "He made you not die and then shot a Patronus at the dementors and they flew right off."

"Then he magicked you onto a stretcher," said Ron. "And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were. . . ."

"Did someone get my Nimbus?"

Ron and Hermione looked quickly at each other.

"Er —"

"What?" said Harry, looking from one to the other.

"It got blown away into the Whomping Willow," said Hermione bluntly.

"And?" he said, dreading the answer.

"Well, you know the Whomping Willow," said Ron. "It—it doesn't like being hit."

"Here," said Hermione reaching down for a bag at her feet, turned it upside down, and tipped a dozen bits of splintered wood and twig onto the bed, the only remains of Harry's faithful, finally beaten broomstick.

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